by Anna Jacobs
It began to rain, a sudden, slashing downpour that beat against her head without mercy while thunder rumbled in the distance. Her hands were cold and wet. Rain was trickling down her neck and the wind was banging her body against the brick wall.
Then, without any warning, the knot gave way and she let out an involuntary yell as she fell.
On the Friday morning Cal realized he'd been neglecting Judith and tried to ring her, but got only her answering service. So he sat down and wrote her a long email, explaining why he couldn't come up to see her this weekend, assuring her that he really wanted to keep seeing her, and telling her about the trouble he was having with Kerry, how he couldn't even speak to Lily now.
He didn't know why he was staying here in London this weekend, but felt that he had to be as close to Lily as he could, in case ... in case what? No way was Kerry going to let him see his daughter. And yet some instinct still told him to stay.
When he'd sent off the email, he didn't know what to do with himself. He fiddled about for a while with the design for a new web site he'd been contracted to set up, but could get no inspiration. When your heart was sore and you were worried sick about your child, it was impossible to be creative. Well, it was for him.
In the end, he decided to clean the whole house from top to bottom, something he'd been neglecting lately. If Lily had been here they'd have done it together and it would have been fun. On his own it was merely a grim determination to do something to fill the long, slow hours.
Outside it began to rain, a real downpour. Thunder rumbled as he peered out of the window. He needed to buy some groceries, but he'd wait until later.
He kept looking at the phone, expecting it to ring.
'You're losing it, Richmond!' he muttered and since the house was as immaculate as it ever got, he went to play solitaire on the computer.
Lily hit the concrete path hard and pain shot through her right ankle. She knew she'd yelled out as she fell and was terrified her mother would rush out of the back door. But nothing happened, so she figured the thunder had muffled kercry. She tried to stand up and yelped as she put her weight on her bad foot. Gingerly she tested it and decided it wasn't broken, just sprained. But it hurt to walk, it hurt so much!
She didn't know how she managed it but she hobbled across to the fence and got herself over into Mrs Baxter's garden, crouching there for a moment, shivering and whimpering with pain. At least now she was out of sight. But how was she to get to a phone and call her father?
Her mother might come out at any moment, so she didn't dare wait. She began hopping grimly across the neighbour's garden, hoping to hide in the thick bushes behind the greenhouse. Through the foliage she watched as her mother peered out of the bathroom window, looking from one side to the other, searching all the gardens for a sign of her. She waited till her mother had pulled her head back inside, then stood up. She had to get to a phone, however much it hurt to walk on the ankle. If she didn't escape, she'd not see her father again for years.
As she turned round, she nearly bumped into Mrs Baxter and flinched. 'Don't let them find me. Please! Don't let them find me.' She couldn't help it. She began to cry.
Maeve had taken to having breakfast in bed every day, but got up mid-morning and pottered about the house. She refused obstinately to lie in bed all day doing nothing. Other people might call it 'resting' but she called it being bored. Today she read for an hour or so, finishing a book with a nod of approval. Then she took a fancy to sort out her photograph collection, to make sure the next generation would know who everyone was.
'I've got all the family photos from the mid-nineteenth century onwards,' she told Andy as he helped her get it out. 'Des was furious when they were left specifically to me, but my father didn't want to break up the collection.'
'It wouldn't matter nowadays. You can scan them in and make copies.'
'Perhaps that's what I should do, send copies to Des and Leo.'
'Or I can do it for you.'
'No, show me how to do it. I've avoided computers for too long.'
'You can use mine.'
'Why should I? Go out and buy me one of my own, the best you can find, then teach me to use it.'
'I can buy one online and have it delivered by this afternoon. I know a place that'll do it for me.'
She beamed at him. 'Good. I'll have my first lesson as soon as you've set it up. I'm fed up of playing the invalid.'
'I'll get on to it right away.'
She turned and staggered as the room spun round her. He caught her just in time.
'Just a bit of dizziness.' But she let him help her across to the sofa and left the photograph collection for the time being.
When he'd gone, she leaned her head back and cursed the weakness that was slowing her down so much. If you had to die at such a ridiculously young age, then at least you should be able to make the most of what time you had left, not spend it sleeping or damned well resting.
Anger at the unfairness of it all welled up and burned through her, until she felt aglow with it. She didn't try to stop it. She had a right to be angry and by hell, she would exercise that right.
Saturday morning was fun. Mitch was so eager to get out and start exploring, in spite of the chancy weather, that they grabbed a quick, early breakfast and left everything in chaos.
'I want to see an old cotton mill working,' he said. 'I've been checking online and there are several that you can visit.'
'When I was young, there were still mills with steam engines working for real,' she said, 'though some were on shortened working weeks. But by the time I'd grown up, most of them had shut down. It's very sad, because cotton is what made Lancashire great in the nineteenth century.'
'The only certainty in life is that things will change.' His voice was solemn, as if he was the first to enunciate that. She'd noticed several times her son's barely concealed scorn of the previous generation, but hadn't commented, because that was natural to people his age. She realized he was making further pronouncements and forced her attention back.
'Things change in modern businesses as well. I don't think Dad plans for that like he should. I shall when I take over.'
'You're going to take over, are you?'
'One day. He's not as young as most fathers, so I have to be prepared. I can't afford to muck about.'
So that was what was driving him. He was very like his father in some ways, single-minded about what he wanted. But he was too young to be so solemn, so she ruffled his hair, enjoying his annoyance and the mock scuffle that followed, even though he won and ruffled her hair in retaliation.
'Pax!' she called, weak with laughter. 'Come on, Mitch. Let's go. I want to show you so much and we don't have much time.'
'But we'll have other weekends, won't we?'
'As many as you like.'
Only when they were well on the way did she remember her emails. Well, too bad. If Cal had sent something that needed a reply, he'd have to wait, as she'd been waiting for the past few days. If he'd written . . .
Twenty
Thunder booms along city streets like bass drums, rain plays timpani with the window panes, water makes tinny music in the drainpipes then joins the choruses in the gutters.
The back door of the next house crashed open again and Kerry yelled. 'Lily! Come back this m—!' Thunder cut off her last word. 'Stop - messing - around - Lily! You know you can't get away.'
Hair plastered flat against her skull, water running down her face, the girl looked pleadingly at Mrs Baxter, who hesitated then gestured to the bushes. Unable to believe her luck, Lily limped across and hid again.
It didn't matter that it was raining and cold water was running down her face, because hope flooded through the girl as she crouched behind the bushes. She could hardly believe that Mrs Baxter, of all people, would be hiding her, especially when she remembered all the times their neighbour had complained about the noise of her sound system or the thump of her netball against a wall. That made her feel guilty
now.
'Come into the house once your mother has gone inside again,' Mrs Baxter said quietly, then opened the door of the shed, picked up a bundle and banged the door shut loudly.
Kerry ran out into the rain to peer over the fence. 'Lily?'
'No, only me.'
Her mother's voice sounded shriller than usual. 'Mrs Baxter, have you seen Lily? She's run away again.'
'Why should she do that?'
'Oh, she's just being silly, doesn't want to go and live in America. You know how girls of that age get these fancies. She'll settle down once we're living there.'
'Are you going permanently?'
'Yes. But please don't tell anyone. We're having a lot of trouble with my ex about it.'
'I see. Well, good luck with your hunt. Dear me, I'm getting soaked standing here.' She hurried into the house.
Lily watched her mother stare across the garden. Could she see her through the bushes? Her mother went back to the house, but Lily didn't move until she heard the back door slam shut. Then, crouching low, she limped across the garden as quickly as she could, terrified that her mother hadn't really gone into the house and would look over the fence and see her. She slipped inside, shutting the kitchen door behind her and leaning against it, shivering violently, dripping water everywhere, unable to move for sheer relief.
'Come closer to the Aga, dear. You need to get out of those clothes and have a warm drink before we talk,' Mrs Baxter said in her thin, old woman's voice.
It was such a comforting, everyday sound after the loud voices that seemed to have filled Lily's days recently. She tried to say something and couldn't, tried to smile but her face felt stiff with cold so she moved closer to the big stove, still shivering.
'Stay where you are and I'll fetch you a dressing gown.' Mrs Baxter was back two minutes later with a man's dressing gown, stroking it absent-mindedly as she said, 'This was my husband's. Nothing like wool for keeping you warm. Now, go into the utility room and get those wet clothes off, all of them. Put them in the washing machine and I'll spin them, then tumble them dry.'
Moving slowly, still unable to believe she had escaped, Lily did as she was told. She returned to the kitchen, naked now under the woollen gown, unable to stop her teeth chattering.
'I've made you a cup of hot chocolate.'
She sat down on one of the high stools, cradling it in her hands then sipping it gratefully. The chocolate drink seemed an omen that she would get to her dad. Warmth ran through her and she found she could speak again. 'Thank you.'
'I'll deal with your clothes then we'll have that talk.'
Mrs Baxter vanished and there was the whine of a washing machine spinning from the small utility room off the kitchen. She came back to ask, 'Are you hungry?'
'Ravenous. I haven't eaten since last night.'
'Aren't they feeding you?'
'I was pretending to have an upset stomach so I could climb out of the bathroom window this morning.'
'I saw you. Of all the dangerous things to do! My heart was in my mouth. Did you hurt yourself when you fell?'
'Yes, but it's only a sprained ankle. I can manage.'
'Food first, then I'll strap the ankle up for you. You should have tied reef knots, you know, but they don't teach children such things nowadays.' There was a clunk and a chiming sound. 'Just a minute.' She disappeared into the utility room again and transferred the damp clothes into a tumble dryer. When she came back she made a huge beef and salad sandwich for Lily, who fell on it, murmuring in delight as she wolfed it down. A piece of home-made fruit cake followed it.
Not until her unexpected guest had finished eating did Mrs Baxter fix her with a determined glance and say, 'Tell me everything, dear, then we'll decide what to do. I don't like deceiving your mother, but I've seen with my own eyes how she's been treating you lately.'
When Lily had finished her tale she crossed her fingers for luck and looked at the old woman. Everything depended on her now.
'I'll need to confirm with your father that he wants you.'
'He does, I know he does!' Relief shuddered through Lily so violently that she started crying, couldn't help herself.
When Mrs Baxter put her arms around her, she leaned against their neighbour and sobbed loudly. It went on for a long time and in the end, Mrs Baxter had to hold her at arm's length and give her a little shake. 'Stop it now! You have to stop if we're to get you away. Let's have a look at that ankle of yours.'
Lily gulped and hiccupped, eventually managing to calm down.
'I don't know what they do to children these days,' the kind old lady muttered. 'You need someone to love you, that's for sure, and I've seen your father's face when he's called for you. He cares about you. That new fellow of your mother's has a nasty face. I never did trust men with heavy eyebrows.'
'I have the best father in the world, even if I'm not really his.'
'Of course you're his. He's made you his own. Not his, indeed! Whoever said that was wrong. You're his daughter and don't let anyone tell you differently. Now, give me his phone number. That American fellow went out a few minutes ago and he might be bringing in the police, for all we know. I couldn't go against them.'
Which sent worry shivering through Lily again.
The phone only rang once before Cal snatched it up. 'Yes?'
'Mr Richmond?'
'Yes.'
'I'm Lily's neighbour, Nancy Baxter. I have your daughter here with me. She's run away from her mother. Do you want me to bring her to you?'
'Of course I do. Is she all right?'
'More or less. She hurt her ankle climbing out of the bathroom window.'
'Hurt? Do we need to get her to hospital?'
'No, I've strapped it up. I've done first aid and I can tell a sprain from a break. I don't like to interfere between parents and children, but it worries me that they're taking her to America on Sunday.'
'They're doing what?'
'You didn't know about that?'
'No. I'm applying for an injunction to stop them taking her out of the country, but I couldn't get it to court until Monday.'
'I see. Well, I think I'd better bring Lily to you. They'd recognize your car if you drove up to my house. She's a very unhappy girl and she needs you. Have a quick word with her.' She passed the phone to Lily.
'Dad? Oh, Dad!'
'Darling, hang in there. I'll get you away from them.'
'You do want me?'
'Did you even need to ask?'
'No. Not really. But Mum kept saying you'd change now you know you're not my biological father.'
'I'll never change, Lily. I love you. Put Mrs Baxter on again, will you?'
Cal could feel tears filling his eyes and he smeared them away with his forearm, saying in a thickened voice, 'Mrs Baxter, I can't thank you enough for helping us.' He heard a noise and looked out of the window. 'Wait a minute, please! Don't hang up! Wayne's just arrived at my house. Damn! Kerry must have phoned him. Still, I suppose this would be the first place they'd look.'
'They're very determined to get her back, aren't they?'
Cal thought rapidly. 'Look, can you bring her to meet me somewhere? I'll come on the motor bike. It'll be easier to avoid them on that.' He didn't usually drive fast, but he'd push the Hog to the limit to get Lily away. What had Kerry and Wayne been doing to upset her so? She never cried normally.
When he put the phone down, he stood for a moment, getting his order of action worked out in his mind, then he went and crammed some clothes into a bag, including some of the things Lily kept here.
The door bell rang three times while he was doing that, but he ignored it, working as quickly as he could. When he went out of the back door he slid the bike off its stand and rolled it, not without difficulty, to the end of the back garden. Just as he was pushing it through the little-used back gate, he heard a voice yell, 'Hey? Richmond! I need to speak to you.'
He turned to see Wayne climb over the side gate and run down the garden. There was no way h
e could get his bike started before the man reached him, so he stopped and forced a smile to his face. 'That's an unusual way to come in!'
'I rang the doorbell several times. Didn't you hear me?'
'No, sorry. Been working on the bike in the garage. The extension bell mustn't be working.' He glanced at his watch. 'Look, I'm just going to see someone about a new contract, so if you can make this fast . . .'
'It's about Lily.'
'Is she all right?'
'She was when I last saw her.'
Cal improvised rapidly. 'Look, this is a rather special contract I'm signing for. It'll bring in half my income for the coming year and I'm running late as it is. If it's really important I can come round to Kerry's in about an hour and a half. You know I've been trying to see Lily. We can talk then.'
'You haven't seen her today?'
'That's a strange thing to ask.' He looked at Wayne. 'Has she run away again?'
'Yes. But we'll soon find her.'
'She probably just wants some time to herself. All children do.' Cal swung his leg across the bike and switched on the motor, keeping his expression calm. 'I really do have to go. See you in about an hour and a half. We'll work out what to do about Lily then.' He paddled his way out then lifted his feet off the ground and drove carefully down the rutted back lane. When he turned on to the street at the end, he thought he'd got away with it, then he saw Wayne's big four-wheel drive turn the corner and accelerate after him. He smiled grimly. He'd back his Hog against a car any day, but he didn't need to speed to get away this time.
He drove to a street he knew to be a cul-de-sac. When he got to the turning circle at the end, he slowed down so that he could get his bike between the bollards that blocked off access to cars and then drive off along a pedestrian walkway. For once he didn't care if the bike got scratched. There was nothing as important as getting to Lily, nothing!
A quick glance behind showed Wayne standing beside his vehicle looking angry and pulling out a mobile phone.
Cal prayed that Mrs Baxter had got Lily away. He knew where he could take his daughter. Well, he hoped he did.
Then he'd come back and face the court on Monday.